


Earthsong

by Ravager_Zero



Category: Frozen (2013), Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/F, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, My First Smut, Mystery, No Dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 11:43:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4390574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravager_Zero/pseuds/Ravager_Zero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, after visiting the Trolls, Elsa hears a strange song. What was it—and why does it give her these feelings?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earthsong

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I would like to blame Laura for giving me this idea—this is all your fault. :P
> 
> Secondly, I believe I have written to every genre and style now, but have always lacked one. Smut. Yes, yes, very funny. I didn't want to do it shamelessly for no other reason than to have written it, so that's why I'm only doing this one now. If you figure it out, it will make sense as to why.
> 
> Lastly, there is also an, ahem, sanitised (read: boring :P) version of this over on FF.net, here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11391447/1/Song-of-the-Earth

Elsa heard it first after visiting the trolls—at Anna's insistence that they could help with her magic. They couldn't. The sound was soft and distant, carried far by an ethereal wind. It sounded like a voice, or a river, or a forest come alive. It was green—it felt green, it sounded green; the green of grass, of treetops and forest canopies. It was music—the song of earth; rivers and valleys and mountains and sky. It was haunting and familiar and altogether too beautiful for words.

Something reached out to brush against her in a way she couldn't describe. It was above the physical, far, far above, but it seemed to lie lower than any base instinct she had ever felt. Soft earth pressed against the arches of her feet, and when she looked down, Elsa realised her icy shoes were gone, brushed away by something… else. It was almost as if the Earth itself was calling to her. It sent a shiver of gooseflesh up her legs and across her back—and drew a spark deep from inside her most private of places. She took half a step, knees suddenly weak.

She only realised she was off the path when she nearly tripped over a large root, cursing softly.

The feeling was gone.

So was the song.

* * *

There was a cave, in the border forest, and through it she could see the sky. Anna had shown it to her, so long ago. No one knew why she truly sought this place—why the freedom and solitude meant so much to her. Here she could indulge her heart's darkest desires. No one would know. No one would hear the names she screamed. The faces she imagined her lovers making. And most of all, no one would know that most of those lovers had red hair and twin braids; a heart shaped face; and a smile that rivalled the heavens themselves for beauty.

Elsa looked up, the water falling in steady sheets from on high, into this secret place. Far, far above the sky was awake, twisting flashes of green and blue; flickers of red, and sudden glimpses of brightest yellow. The stars fell behind the spectacle, and the world seemed to drift away as she floated in the spring. Her hand crept lower, a ghostly splash of pure water across her belly, and then a soft tangle of platinum hairs.

Fingers pressed gently against the outside of her womanhood, and a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold shot up her spine. Her breathing slowed, savouring the feeling, fingers making treacherous caresses against her entrance. From deep within the water she heard it, and in the distance she felt it. The force of it stilled her hand as she became almost painfully wet. The wordless, formless song softened, promising life, and beauty. The song was green and quiet. Elsa slid a finger into the slickness between her thighs. It felt as if she had already reached her peak, but it had only made her hungry for more.

She worked slowly, her eyes drifting, losing focus, and time fell away under the stars and falling water. Her body rode every crest of pleasure she gave to herself, and the water around churned with her pleasure. Wracked with pleasure, she could take no more, her arms and legs spreading languorously through the pure black waters that mirrored the sky, stars mixing with cresting ripples and the voice of rushing water.

The voice sang. It promised a soothing death, and a glorious rebirth. There would be no ashes on this wind, but great trees grown from the smallest seeds. A song of life, and a song of death. A song of the Earth itself. It was different than before, but still hauntingly beautiful and ethereal. There was no way to catch it but to drift free from herself. To have her body fallen from the throes of heat, her mind cast loose into the void. She closed her eyes and listened to the wordless song.

Time passed, and the song ended. Elsa opened her eyes; the sun had risen above.

* * *

The third time she heard it, Elsa was in the depths of the castle. The song drew her down, deep, deep into the Earth. It echoed from the walls, and the dark stone turned to green life as the ethereal voice wove about the earth behind them. Elsa's shoes vanished, dispelled by the caress of another's magic. Her dress shrank, a shimmering negligé of frost just barely preserving her modesty. Not that even Anna was likely to find her here. Deep down, in this musty place, she felt closer to the song. The walls were growing deep green moss, seeming to reach out to her in the dim firelight.

Her hand brushed the wall, moss clumping on her fingers. A dusting of ice cleaned them and spread over the wall. The moss grew back, cracking the ice in perfect silence. The song held a trill of alarm before it turned contemplative. Elsa let out a quiet breath. She knew a way to be closer, to understand more—but down here, in this dark place, did she dare?

The song soothed her tangled nerves, taking her mind to a place of green, of tall trees and soft earths; of rushing waters and calming skies. It was no threat. The song had been touched, by something very strange, and had tried to respond in kind. She had no idea how she knew this from the wordless song, but it spoke to her as if it were a thought, not a sound. The song drew her to the deepest tunnels, and within their walls, she felt safe, the darkness enveloping her as never before.

She wore nothing as she leaned against the wall, sliding slowly to the cold stone floor. Except this floor was not cold, and it was not stone. The green moss surrounded and supported her, the song that gave it life caressing her legs and back as a lover might. She shivered in delight, hands cupping and massaging her breasts. She was a whole, not parts; just as the song; of beauty, life, death, and rebirth. Her hands lowered themselves to her belly, skating past her ribs with a ghost of feeling.

The moss seemed to shift with her weight as she slid down against the wall, feeling almost as if this place could have been her bed. When probing fingers found the wetness at her core, all rational thought fled. There was only this moment, and the way her fingers began to slide while her thumb worked the most secret and powerful point in her garden of pleasure. The ethereal song built and grew, slowly reaching a crescendo. When she fell from her heat, this time she managed only the once, sliding limply from the wall, the green moss catching her before she fell.

Blinking, walking the tunnel beneath the fjord, Elsa looked up, out into the forest. She did not know she was naked, only that that the falling leaves seemed drawn to her. They brushed against her skin as the sun fell and the moon rose, a stranger tickling her from a far off place. The air turned still, and cold, though she could not feel it. She looked in confusion at the edge of the forest, noting at last that she was unclothed. But that was not what was missing.

In the evening air the song was gone, the lack of its haunting melody a sense of great loss.

Elsa sat, and wept, but could never say why.

* * *

She had wandered far, deeper into the forest than ever before. Far beyond the valley of the living rock. Beyond the trolls. Beyond the paths. Possibly beyond Arendelle itself. The air was still, and the earth soft underfoot. With barely a thought she dispelled her icy shoes, luxuriating in the feel of earth beneath her feet. It felt right. Something brushed gently against her foot. Deep green moss. Then the song began, quiet and longing; ethereal and haunting.

The moss grew richer and softer, teasing the arches of her feet. Elsa smiled softly, her toes pressing into the green. The moss meandered around trees and through gullies, down—ever downward. It was a path she was being led along, but she did not care. She was not being led away from herself, but towards something else. Towards the song. Towards the truth. The song twisted from the trees, burrowing from the earth at her feet. A song without form; without words. A song of death, and loss, of life, and rebirth. A song of cycles, of seasons. A song of the Earth itself.

Carried on the wind as a whisper of a thought, it pulled her ever onward. Green the forest was, green too were the trees. Even the sky itself shaded to a green, not eerie but alive. The song was powerful, and she was close—closer than ever before. The moss beneath her spread and sprawled, a verdant carpet broaching into a bay of comfort. A grove, empty but alive, surrounded by trees as old as the Earth itself, their branches meeting somehow over the sky, enclosing both this small place and the entire world. Elsa let go a breath she hadn't known she was holding.

Creeping vines and feathery tendrils grew from the moss, gently wrapping themselves around her ankles. Elsa stopped, alarmed, and frost shattered the vines. A trill of alarm and fear shot through the song. Fear… fear of _her_. But she was afraid too; of the power that those vines might have, of what they might do. Something brushed against the side of her foot. She looked down to see a single, fine tendril gently grasping for her ankle. She laughed inwardly, feeling an odd sense of invitation as the tendril crept higher, circling her calf, then her knee. Another tendril joined the first, gently probing at the flesh of her thigh while another rose outside her leg and nestled softly against her ribs.

More tendrils spread from her side, tickling her belly before reaching down, down to—a film of ice shattered the tendrils. A note of confusion echoed through the song, but the tendrils began to rise, gently teasing the underside of her breasts through the fabric of her brassiere. A chill atop her skin warned the tendrils away, and she swallowed in fear as they pressed against her throat, climbing the back of her neck.

More and more were climbing her left leg now, gently pressing against every inch of flesh they touched, a ring of sensation growing higher—but studiously avoiding the places of herself she had iced. The song grew with a sense of purpose and understanding, and a desire to know more—to have more; to feel more. Tendrils brushed softly across her cheeks, and Elsa stood stock still, closing her eyes. She was afraid, but the song fluted soft, soothing notes that sent a wave of gooseflesh rippling down her arms and back.

She felt something pressing against the ice with which she had covered herself, and something tugging gently at the shoulders of her dress. At her shoulders, through the dress. The vines retreated, sliding down her face and neck, trying to cover her breasts. A gentle chill forced them back, but the tugging at her shoulders was insistent. The vines fell further, dissolving into the moss beneath her feet. She touched a finger to her throat, running it down to her navel, her dress separating down the front as she stepped forward, out of herself, out of the icy fabric that was her shield against the world. She wore nothing, her underwear falling as glittering dust on the next step, unafraid of the vines.

Beneath her toes she could feel the moss shifting, moving, drawing together to lead her to the centre of the grove. Now, dressed as nature had intended, she strode forward, an ethereal figure visible beneath the ancient starlight. The singer, and the song, surrounded by life; by green and glory. A being as old as the Earth, and as young as the sky. A song of death, and life, and the cycle of eternity. Words failed completely to describe the figure; the song; even the queen of winter herself.

Bare flesh, tinged with green. A figure not quite there, the forest floor barely visible beyond her. A spine gently curved, and hips so shapely they chased confusing thoughts of jealousy and arousal through the mind of the queen. Legs, thick and strong like the trunk of a tree. A body shaped like flowing water, sinuous curves and deep gullies. Shoulders solid and hard as rock, with arms as pliable as soft earth—or as strong as bedrock below. Hands and fingers that worked with the delicacy of a falling leaf. The figure turned, and though her dress was gone, Elsa did not feel exposed. She did not feel ashamed. Instead, as with the song, curiosity filled her being.

They were women, meeting as equals, only as themselves. The song continued, calming any final disquiet Elsa might have had. The green figure approached, and closer Elsa could see the lines, the way the woman's flesh was made of new leaves and old branches. A hand reached out to touch her face, and Elsa had to fight to keep her magic in check. A caress softer than any feather ran down her cheek and across her lips, leaving a sensuous tingle. She gasped in shock as the hand passed through her, a mournful note filling the song. She understood about the tendrils—their intimate probing and delicate caresses. The green figure could not feel. She looked up, and eyes of sightless emerald met her gaze. The green figure stared both at and through her, seeing something more than what she was.

A ghostly hand swept across her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. The hand continued, over her shoulder, and down, tracing the line of her breasts before stopping over her stomach. The green figure looked at her with sadness and concern, slowly moving closer. Elsa blinked, gently reaching out. Green flesh pressed gently into white, a tingling sensation rippling out in waves, and the figure hugged Elsa more fiercely than even Anna had ever done. She didn't understand. They sank to their knees, and Elsa felt tears against her cheek—they weren't her own.

Elsa gently lifted the mysterious woman's chin, her finger half disappearing into ethereal flesh, while she looked into eyes of emerald that saw the life of the world. A great sadness lay within those orbs; yet so did a stronger feeling of relief. A subtle greenness had spread beneath them, and suddenly Elsa understood. This woman, too, had magic. Magic of life. But the song spoke of death. Because all life had to end; but was born again. The green magic was the ultimate expression of life, and for a moment Elsa wished it had been hers, so that she could never have hurt Anna; so that she could have had a sister for all those years—Been a sister for all those years.

A trill of fear passed through the song as the green figure placed a hand over Elsa's breast, touching a finger to her heart. Elsa watched in fascination as a tiny string of emerald smoke was drawn from inside of her. She felt a start as something seemed to be _missing_ —or stolen. The green figure placed a finger to Elsa's tingling lips, forestalling any protest or question. With a subtle gesture she dug the emerald smoke into the earth below, and above there were suddenly the boughs of a yew, green leaves hanging in tight fronds.

Then Elsa finally understood why the song was so haunting. To bring a new life to fruition, an old life had to be taken. Nature had to be balanced. The green figure reached out a tentative hand, magic of life clashing quietly with lifeless cold. There was one final barrier, a shield between this unknown and the secrets of her flesh. Elsa closed her eyes and let out a tiny breath, accepting the touch against her flesh. Green tinged skin gained sudden form, permission giving them strength to touch her flesh. Elsa sighed as she fell back, the Earth itself rushing up to cushion her fall.

The green figure sat astride her legs, and Elsa felt gentle fingers exploring the texture of her face, the song now full of wonder and surprise. Strange lips met her own, and soon Elsa realised she was in love with all the Earth; with everything that ever was or would be. She touched a wondering finger to her lower lip, trying to lift the sensation so she could remember it forever. Fingertips just a shade from solid flesh pressed deep against the skin of her shoulders, banishing the tension from her muscles and mind. She felt suddenly pliable, as if she were willing to let the green figure mould her to its—to her—heart's desire.

Already embers had begun to burn deep within her core, and as the green figure touched her, teased her, the flames only grew. The fingers that pressed against the side of her breast were not quite gentle enough, and alarm and regret filled the notes of the song. Smiling, unashamed, Elsa took that hand under hers, and showed it how she liked to be touched. Soft strokes, gentle pinches, a lazy swirl expanding from her nipple all the way to her other breast. The green figure's hands copied with exactness, only slowly adding their own variations. A gentle, firm pinch against one nipple arched her back in surprise and delight, Elsa unable to hold back a gasp of shocked pleasure.

Then the green figure guided her hands to breasts used to mothering the world, much fuller and firmer than Elsa had imagined. The touch was magic, and before she knew what she was doing, icy fractals had spread from her fingertips to trace a skintight negligé over one of those breasts. The pace of the song quickened, but excitement overrode fear. Elsa continued to explore, her other hand running up the green figure's side, tickling her ribs, pressing firmly against her belly, eliciting a single, perfect note from the song. Then, with one finger pressed against the figure's nipple, Elsa let her magic free.

The green figure gasped soundlessly, falling to the side, the song so full of wonder it threatened to overwhelm them both. Elsa shifted slowly, enjoying the way her flesh slid against the woman beneath her. She kissed, pressing hard against lips of forest green, her tongue tasting the waters of the Earth and the nectar of the heavens. She shifted again, kissing the green figure's throat; shoulder; décolletage—lust overcame her and her lips closed around the bosom of the Earth, suckling lasciviously as the green figure writhed beneath her.

The green figure was on top again, the strength of the Earth pinning her wrist as she pretended to struggle. The song saw through her lie and pinned her other wrist, inviting her to escape or overthrow the greenness above. Elsa stilled, neither option as appealing as what those lips might do now she had given their owner ideas. Her hands were released as the waters of the Earth left slick trails around both nipples before gentle lips pressed against her breastbone. Against her belly. Her navel. Above the tangle of platinum that was her garden of womanhood.

Her mind refused to function at the next kiss, a note of satisfaction and just a hint of self-deprecating smugness skirling about the song. She had no idea how the green figure knew this deepest, most secret desire of hers—one she'd not even shared with Anna. Then another flicker of sensation obliterated the thought with a wave of pleasure, her whole body tingling against the moss that had spread to support them. She had given up so much control, was letting another work so she did not have to.

Then she was on top, lustful eyes gazing into sightless emerald that still somehow saw, sinuous curves writhing between her thighs as the green figure tried to escape. Elsa placed a finger to those treacherous lips, and then ran her hands over the figure's ribs, fingertips dusting the other woman with gossamer ice. The song cried out in frustration and desire, and Elsa continued her teasing assault, fingers skittering down the figure's thighs and over her knees, then back up and towards the core of the woman beneath her. The song stilled to nothing, an expectant pause as the world turned about them, and only them.

Elsa paused, savouring a single moment of control and surrender, placing her hand over the other woman's entrance, pressing the heel of her hand down and in where the folds peaked and the secret peered from beneath its hood. Finger and thumb stroking down made the green figure shudder, then the fingers of Elsa's other hand probed against the slick folds of green tinged flesh between those powerful thighs. The song sighed in longing and desire unsuppressed. Elsa drove her fingers past the tightness of the other woman's entrance, a flicker of ice sending shocks of iridescent green swirling through the moss beneath them and the leaves above.

Leaning against the green figure's supine form, Elsa pressed her breasts against the other's stomach, revelling in the feeling of soft flesh meeting in unchaste ways. She slithered and crawled higher, lips caressing the green figure's breasts, once more suckling the bosom of the Earth as her hands and fingers worked to free the oceans from their bondage within. Higher still, and green hands met behind her waist. Behind her thighs. A finger stroking a tingling line down the lips surrounding her own entrance. She dove into the kiss with passion, one hand working free to pin the green figure in place. Neither of them seemed to mind, Elsa tasting the waters of the Earth, and the green figure seeming to drink the essence of winter with every teasing swipe of her tongue.

The Earth shifted, the sky awhirl, and Elsa lay flat on her back, wrists held splayed by tendrils of green. The song soothed a calming note before surprise began to fade to concern. Her wrists could move, but not far. Stronger vines curled around her ankles, holding her legs apart. She felt exposed, and terrifyingly vulnerable. She could not help the tear that escaped to roll down her cheek. The green figure lowered her sinuous body, only half over Elsa, gently pressing away the tear, kissing the queen of winter tenderly on the forehead. There was no reason to be scared. Many smaller vines wrapped about her stomach, but Elsa did not panic—could not. Intrigue had overcome her, and a sense of submission.

But when, a moment later, her desire to be free overcame her burning desire and curiosity, she was unbound in an instant, the vines waving idly as she flexed her arms. She was in control. She had nothing to conceal. No fear to hide. She would only be held if she assented to being held. She lay back, tenderly stroking one of the tendrils from her wrists. She was held, pinned to the earth, the moss beneath her a soothing coolness she hadn't noticed. The green figure smiled; the song victorious and reassuring. Elsa twisted and writhed, playing the game for the green figure.

Gentle hands ran down her thighs with long, sensuous touches. Lips of green desire kissed her belly, and somehow deep within. Firm, full breasts pressed against her inner thighs, her desire mounting so greatly she began to shudder in demand. A bare hint of laughter filled the song, and with her arms held back, Elsa could do nothing as the green figure drew a spiral of moss over her breasts, tiny roots raising the most pleasurable tingle she had ever felt. The green figure fell on her, the moss subsumed into the bosom of the Earth, the tongue holding the waters of the Earth duelling and darting around her own, licking both of their lips in feverish excitement.

Elsa squeezed her eyes shut at the sudden stab of pleasure from the playful pinch at her nipple. The green figure smiled, free hand running up the inside of Elsa's thigh, drawing a breathless wish of desire from the queen of winter. Two hands toyed within the tangle of platinum before spreading wide her entrance. Elsa felt the moan deep in her throat, the fire in her core suddenly blazing out of control. Kisses trailed from her neck to her navel, then lower still, pressing around her hidden secret, teasing it into the open. She struggled and writhed in the bondage of the vines, her body frustrated to a glorious peak as a treacherous tongue explored the folds and wetness that had become her entrance.

She couldn't hold it back, her pleasure uncapping what control she had had over her magic. Snow exploded from within as the green figure brought her to her fall; the song as winter welcoming spring. The grove slowly shaded with white, snow adding to the beauty of tangled moss and vines, falling against the leaves of the yew above. She fell further, her mind awash with pleasure, the arms of her lover embracing her as she wept with the force of it.

The other woman smiled at her, green lips curving gaily, then pressed their foreheads together. Emotion overcame Elsa, and her body slept. She awoke nestled in a bed of moss, back propped up against a tree. She wore nothing, and yet felt unexposed. The desires of her flesh felt sated and fulfilled as never before. A distant song bore her a tearful farewell, and she wiped a tear from her cheek as she looked around. The singing grove was gone. The forest path had returned. Even the moss she had lain on had receded beneath the roots of the tree. The stream nearby had bent back to its original course.

All that remained was a single yew, and in its heart she knew lay her connection to the Earth.

An Earth that was her mother.

An Earth that was her lover.

An Earth that was hers.

It had taken part of her—but in her belly she felt a stirring most strange, as if, perhaps, she, too, had taken part of it.

The Earth turned about her, and she left, wishing she could remember why it was she was in the forest so early…


End file.
